When I stayed silent, he suddenly surged forward, grabbed my throat, and yanked me roughly toward him. "Talk."
I grimaced at the grip around my neck. "It was nothing earth-shattering."
"I hate being lied to to my face." His voice dropped to a growl. "Well?"
"I... mentioned your name," I finally admitted, avoiding his eyes. "Not directly. But he connected the dots." White lies are allowed, right?
"Fantastic." Alessandro released me. "Why did you mention my name?"
"I don’t know. Probably to warn him," I stammered, flustered.
"Warn him? About who? Me?" he asked, incredulous.
"Who else?"
He scoffed derisively. I crossed my arms and shot him a defiant look. "You give plenty of reasons, Alessandro."
He arched a challenging brow and slumped back into his seat with visible irritation. "Why can’t you just let that bastard face his own fate?"
I stared at him, my thoughts racing. For a moment, I actually considered it. What if I just let it happen? But then I shook my head. "I can’t."
"And why not? Do you think you owe him something?"
I met his gaze, struggling to stay calm. "Because I’m involved.And if he goes down, I go down with him."
His grin faded, and he straightened. Almost as if he didn’t believe me. "That can’t be. I’d know."
"How would you know?" I snapped.
"Because I know everything."
"Clearly not." I sucked in a breath, narrowing my eyes at him. "Your control freak tendencies are unbearable, you know that?"
"When did this happen?" he asked, his tone serious now, the anger lines on his forehead deepening.
"Recently," I answered, running a hand through my hair. "I trusted him blindly. I had no idea he was just using my involvement to improve liquidity."
Alessandro shook his head slowly, his expression tense. "He’s using you."
"And you’re not?" My voice came out rougher than I intended.
He looked at me as if I’d just handed him the perfect opening. "I’m using you?" His eyes darkened, flicking to my lips before returning to my gaze. "Maybe I should start..."
My heart skipped a beat as a soft click sounded. I turned my head and realized the doors had locked.
"What are you doing?" I asked rhetorically, tugging at the handle. Useless.
"Locking the doors," he said calmly, his gaze dark and molten.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Because you look fucking irresistible in that skirt." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "And I'm going to use you now. Exactly how you need it." "Alexander..." The tension in my voice was unmistakable. "You're injured."
He looked at me as if that were irrelevant. "That won't save you now." His gaze burned into me. "So stop making excuses."
His hand rose, tracing my cheek. My body responded instantly, arching into his touch as though I belonged there. It had been barely 24 hours. Yet it felt like an eternity.
"No one fucks here... we're in the middle of a pedestrian—"
